


Secret's Out

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Gen, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4656822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John encourages Sherlock to join him and some of the guys on a night out drinking, and in the course of a game of Kill, Bang, Marry a secret Sherlock hadn’t intended to come out comes to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret's Out

**Author's Note:**

> So I got involved [in a discussion](http://tuesdayterrible.tumblr.com/post/127583684101/sherlolly-prompt) on Tumblr about Sherlock playing a game of Kill, Bang, Marry and offered to write up a fic for the scenario and this is what happened. Hopefully it fulfills some needs.

Sherlock had no idea why he’d even agreed to come. This was not where he wanted to be. This was not how he wanted to be spending his evening. But John had wanted a night out of the house, a night with the men, and so he’d been roped into going to The Harwood Arms with John and Lestrade, who’d invited Dimmock and Anderson, and a handful of other blokes who all knew each other, and he was bored. He’d much rather be at the flat in Montague Street where he’d been spending more of his time lately, he thought to himself as he stared at the drink in front of him. He hadn’t had one since they’d gotten there while everyone else had proceeded to get sloshed.

John came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sherlock, c’mon. You’ve got to loosen up. Live a little.” He had a grin on his face and Sherlock could tell he was at least a little bit tipsy.

“I _am_ living a little,” he said sourly.

“Haven’t touched your drink,” he said, the grin turning into a frown. 

Sherlock stared at it, then up at his friend, and then sighed. He picked it up and took the shot glass in his fingers and slammed it back. It tasted all right, he supposed. It probably would have tasted better cold than lukewarm. But he appreciated the taste and the warm sensation that went down his throat. “What did I just drink?” he asked.

“Jägermeister,” John said with a grin. “Bet it didn’t taste good since you’ve let it sit there for so long. Let me get you another one to drink cold.” The hand on the shoulder became a clap on the back as John moved away, and Sherlock studied the others. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, he supposed. They were all chatting about things that didn’t interest him, at the very least, and it was keeping them entertained. Every once in a while their attention was pulled away to the telly and there was a groan or a cheer.

John came back with another shot glass and handed it to Sherlock. He took it and slammed this back as well. It was a _definite_ improvement drinking it cold, he realized. He scrunched his face up slightly as he nodded approvingly. “Much better.”

“Thought as much,” John said with a grin. “Look, mate. Why don’t you join the rest of us? I know you think Anderson and Dimmock are clods, but some of the other blokes aren’t so bad. And let’s face it. You need friends.”

Sherlock eyed the empty sot glasses. “Do I get more of those?” he asked, nodding to them.

“As many as you want,” John said.

Sherlock considered it for a moment, and then sighed, getting up from his sport in the darkened corner. “Fine. I suppose I’ll go socialize.”

“That’s the spirit,” John said as they made their way to the others.

\--

“Natalie Dormer, Cara Delevingne or Gemma Atherton?”

“That’s a hard one, mate,” Dimmock said, scrunching his brow. “Can’t I just bang them all?” All the men around him except Sherlock laughed. Sherlock had no idea who those women were, to be honest. This game was quickly losing its appeal to him. “All right, fine. Bang Cara, marry Gemma and throw Natalie off a cliff with a parachute.”

“I’d be worried she’d come back and stab me in the back,” Lestrade said, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. Then he turned to Sherlock. “How ‘bout you, Sherlock? Who’d you choose?”

“I have no clue who any of those women are,” he said with a shrug, picking up the shot John had put in front of him. He’d had quite a few of them at this rate. More than he could remember.

“Don’t watch Game of Thrones?” Anderson asked. “Or read a magazine? Or, you know, know anything about anything popular?

Sherlock sneered. “Don’t really care for simple entertainment,” he said.

Lestrade moved between the two men. “All right, all right. No fighting, you two. Fine then. Let’s make this more interesting. Let’s play Kill, Bang, Marry with women we all know, agreed?” There was a general murmur of agreement among the men. “Okay then. Lucille, Karen and Georgina.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Lucille the receptionist at the Yard, Karen the receptionist at St. Bart’s and Georgina…?”

“The receptionist at my clinic,” John said with a smirk, picking up his pint. “Greg, do you have a type?”

“No! Just trying not to pick anybody who can kick my arse if they find out we used them in this game!” he said.

“Karen knows Krav Maga,” Dimmock pointed out. “We take classes together.”

“Then let’s pick someone else,” Lestrade said. “Darlene, maybe?”

“Who’s Darlene?” Anderson asked.

“Weapons clerk at the Yard,” Sherlock said. “She came in after you left and I came back from the dead.” He signaled for another shot. “Frankly I don’t find any of the four of them appealing. I barely acknowledge their existence, unless I need to.”

“Then let’s pick three women you actually know,” Anderson said, thinking a moment.

Lestrade raised his hand. “Got ‘em. Mary, Sally and the woman who’s always around your brother, whatshername.”

“Anthea,” Sherlock said. “And no, that won’t work.”

“Greg, you can’t put my wife in the group,” John said with a smirk. “I’ll kill Sherlock for considering her for any of the three answers.”

“See?” Sherlock said as his shot arrived.

“Fine. Molly, then. Sally, Anthea and Molly.”

Sherlock didn’t even pause, grinning a bit. “Bang Molly, marry Molly, kill the other two,” he said before tossing back his shot. He shut his eyes as he savored the drink before realizing no one had said anything. He opened his eyes and looked at a bunch of shocked faces. “What?”

“Could you…I don’t know, just possibly…could you fancy Molly, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked, squinting slightly in confusion.

“Could I? Isn’t it obvious?” he said with a shrug. “If John hadn’t talked me into coming out here tonight I’d probably be at her flat in the process of shagging her into the mattress as we speak.”

“You and the pathologist?” Dimmock asked, his mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re actually _together_?”

“Romantically, carnally, _yes_ , we’re together,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You all are so utterly daft. I’m in love with her. Did you all fail to notice that?” He shook his head and then glanced at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need to now go inform her that our secret’s out and she’ll have to marry me after all.” He turned around and gave a half-hearted wave to the men as he made his way out to the cabs.

He was almost out of earshot when he heard John say triumphantly “And I believe everyone owes me a tenner now.” He smirked at that and kept walking. He’d let Molly deal with his best mate for getting him in the position for the secret to come out later. Right now, he had a ring to go collect and a proposal to try and make, despite his inebriated state.


End file.
